Confession: If I was not doing Tupelo's 30/30, I would not have written/finished a draft for today.
I write complete each of the poems the night before they're do, like having read the assignments before class (I can't escape the student/teacher in me).
And last night, I *started* working on a poem around 8:15pm, after a preschool field trip, which included an accident (read: pee-soaked sneakers, etc), trying to work on an end-of-year report during my three-year-old's one-hour nap, and the general chaos of running a household.
If I was doing a private poem-a-day challenge, as I've done in the past, I would have given myself a pass. I had done some research, sketched a few notes, made a noble effort on a day that had sapped so much physical and emotional energy.
Because this is a public challenge and so many people are reading (and rooting for me!), my own pride/ego/ambition/persistence/vanity/etc. refused to bail.
And by midnight, I had finished a draft. Is it a great poem? No. Is it something that I didn't have before and could totally work with? Yes.
This 30/30 challenge is asking me to give my writing an attention that I give almost everything else in my life. If there were essays I had to grade or an end-of-year report deadline or a sick child or, or, or, I'd stay up and push through it. Because those things have a more visible and tangible payoff, I make time for them, even when there is no time.
Last night, I did that for poetry.
Here is an excerpt of "My Skunk Hour" (read the full poem on Tupelo Press' 30/30 blog):
"Let me be the skunk. Lady of the mercaptan
rich musk. Medusa of the trash heap,
a smell that hits you like stone."
Like Robert Lowell's infamous "Skunk Hour," this is a confessional poem; however, I am interested in presenting the skunk as a type of spirit animal.
The poem is a celebration of our ripest body, a type of reclamation of natural self, and it is arguing against the commodification of women’s beauty. Well, it may not be doing all of this yet, but it has plans.
The poem is a celebration of our ripest body, a type of reclamation of natural self, and it is arguing against the commodification of women’s beauty. Well, it may not be doing all of this yet, but it has plans.
I am so thankful to be doing this project, and I am astounded by the support my friends, family, and colleagues have shown.
Twenty-four (24!) people have donated to support my participation and independent publishing, and though I have nineteen incentive requests to fill (since I've completed two), I can take many more, as it's possible for me to use five words, a title, and a topic or formal request on one poem. So if you're inclined, donate and send me your request.
Yours in poetry,
Emari
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